As though she had swallowed something rotten, Jasmine felt her stomach twist violently. Her face drained of color. Nausea rose sharp and bitter in her throat, and, dizzy with it, she forced herself upright by bracing a hand against the pillar. Even then, her knees nearly gave out beneath her.
"So you're telling me that... that you were born to kill Azriel?"
Pollux did not look back at her. He simply gazed out over the garden with a melancholy expression and gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment.
"How... how does that even make sense...?"
Jasmine stared at him, stupefied. The more Pollux explained, the more foolish she felt. Then she saw him raise his hand and gently graze the side of his neck with his fingers.
"My fate has always been to kill him."
A sudden brilliance wrapped itself around his throat.
